


Like Double Cherry Pie

by plasticpumpkins



Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: (Baby likes that don't tell anyone), Age Difference, Crushes, Dirty Talk, F/M, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Open Relationships, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticpumpkins/pseuds/plasticpumpkins
Summary: Darling has a theory about Baby... and Buddy is just itchin' to know if it's true.





	Like Double Cherry Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! So, Baby Driver took me by storm. I'm in LOVE with it lol so... here's some smut. You can expect some other stuff from me if you like it!!
> 
> Playlist for this fic, in true Baby fashion:  
> 1\. Superstition by Stevie Wonder  
> 2\. I Was Made For Lovin' You by KISS  
> 3\. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground

It was late. Baby and Buddy had been left together at the base, putting together the best escape route for their next run. Doc had entrusted them with this, and Baby didn’t plan on letting him down. But there was an awkward tension in the air, one thick with a feeling he didn’t quite understand. He tried his best to ignore it, one headphone in his left ear as the other hung uselessly in the air by the strings of his hoodie. He was listening to something to fit the mood, which happened to be a re-rendered version of Superstition by Stevie Wonder. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Buddy. It was the opposite actually. 

The last couple of months, they had respected each other’s space but occasionally, they would brush hands or shoulders passing by. It was something that sent the hair on the back of Baby’s neck standing up, unsure, intrigued maybe. And now that Darling wasn’t there to sit on Buddy’s lap and distract him, Baby felt trapped in a cage with a predator. Truth be told, he liked Darling a lot. He thought she was funny, nice even. He liked to tell himself that he didn’t envy her, but in some sad way, he did. Maybe it was the way she had Buddy wrapped around her sharp fingers, grinning the whole time.

It was an unfamiliar type of jealousy. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t upset. He was just…confused. In real time, Buddy drew the final chalk line on the blackboard and flicked it back into its silver tray. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plan, Baby,” he said smoothly, his back turned as he leaned against the wooden table and admired his work on the board. He was so unlike Doc in his methods. He wasn’t precise, and his handwriting was a little wonky, but it was good. He could see it playing out in his head, swerving around mental corners and driving the petal to the floor, following Buddy’s very own map to a T. 

“So, what are you doing after this, kid?” Buddy asked casually, turning to face him. He looked the same as he always did. Soot black hair gelled back, dark stubble, and maybe the stain of Darling’s lipstick on his lips. He fit the look of the job with his leather jacket and heavy boots. He was the type of man Baby would avoid on the streets, but here, where they had shared songs and stories, even if Doc told them not to, Baby felt content with him. They weren’t supposed to be friends, but Baby wanted them to be.

Baby was a getaway driver, he drove criminals around, and he assisted theft. So, why couldn’t he have one slightly dubious friend? Two, if you counted Darling. He definitely wanted to be her friend as well. “Nothin’, what are you doing?” he questioned, the song in his ear ending just for another one to start. ‘I Was Made For Lovin’ You’’ by KISS came on, and it seemed to fit. That was how Baby liked it.

He followed Buddy with his eyes as the older man came closer, two of his long fingers landing on one of the cars Doc used as a demonstration. It was small and yellow, and he drove it along the length of the table as he walked forward. He only stopped when he was a few feet from Baby, letting go so the car could roll right off the edge and clatter to the cold, concrete floor. Baby didn’t flinch at the noise. 

Buddy seemed to abandon their topic. He still wasn’t looking at Baby, the tips of his fingers lingered on the smooth surface of the table. “Y’know, Baby, Darling has a theory about you,” he said, his dark eyes finally flickering up to catch the younger man gazing up at him. Time seemed to slow down, even as Baby’s heartbeat sped up. Something about the way the mood changed told him what Buddy was going to say, in some way or another, but he asked anyway. 

“What is it?” Baby’s voice was weighed down, nervous but unwilling to show it.

Buddy smiled knowingly, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “She thinks you have a crush on me.”

Baby looked away, but he could still feel Buddy’s eyes watching his face. He turned the music up from where he had a firm grip on his iPod in his pocket, trying to drown out the world. He wished he could put his other earbud in now. The deed was done. He could go home. And he 100%, for sure, did not have a crush on Buddy. He wasn’t twelve. He was twenty-two, and twenty-two-year-olds don’t have crushes. Especially on men like Buddy, even if they shared his taste in music and laughed at all his jokes. 

It was overwhelming, the way the denial snatched any growing peak of interest out of the air and chucked it out of the window. It came in waves; the want, and then disgust, and then the want again. He was fighting a battle he’d never win, but he wasn’t one to give up on things. No, Baby didn’t like Buddy. No, Baby didn’t want anything to do with Buddy. Yes, he was lying. No, he wouldn’t admit it.

Buddy moved closer, sitting on the edge of the table, invading Baby’s space and filling it with expensive cologne and the old smell of cigarettes.“Baby,” he breathed, his voice low and raspy, “Do you?” 

Baby shook his head like an indignant child, his brown eyes trained on a pen that was lying on the table, uncapped and dry. One half of him wanted to get up and leave. The other wanted to surrender to the feeling. Buddy continued, “‘Cause I have one on you. A horny, teenage crush that won’t quit.” 

“Aren’t you like 40?” Baby snarked, ignoring every word of his sentence but ‘teenage’ to keep his heart from bursting like a bubble behind his ribs. He wondered if Buddy could hear it pounding nervously behind his T-shirt because in that moment, it was so loud in his ears that he could barely stand it. 

The older man was too close now. Close enough that Baby could feel the overwhelming heat radiating off of his body. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch the undoubtedly expensive texture of his leather jacket. But he didn’t want to. Or that’s what he told himself, still looking at everything but him. It kept the reality from settling in and rupturing the little sanity he had left.  “Does it matter?” Buddy asked, and Baby couldn’t help but glance up at him, eyes burning with a fire he couldn’t describe.

He was waiting for him to laugh and slap his shoulder, boasting about how he really had him going this time. He was waiting for the joke to end so he could go home and slam his face into his pillow and scream. And he certainly would’ve if Buddy didn’t have such a horrifyingly intense look on his face, like he was waiting for permission to devour Baby whole. 

“No,” Baby said, voice broken and barely audible. It didn’t matter at all. In fact, there was a sick part of him that liked the age gap between them. It was something about the dynamic, the control. But he’d never admit that to anyone, much less Buddy.

There was a painstakingly quiet moment where their nagging words burned holes into Baby’s skin. All that could be heard was the rushing city outside, the slight noise of Baby’s music, and perhaps, if you were listening closely, the thunderous pounding of each of their hearts.

“Baby, you really gotta tell me if you want this or not ‘cause if not, I gotta get the hell outta here before I kiss you against your will and fuck this up,” Buddy admitted, seeming a little anxious with the silence.

Baby paused to think. Did he want this? It was a door that he could never shut after he opened it, and that was scary as fuck. Doc definitely would advise against it. But in the midst of that worry, there was a ball of burning want that licked at the core of his stomach, spurring him on, asking nicely for it.

Baby had never been good with words. So, he looked directly at the other man and tried his best to convey what he meant with a careful nod of his head. It seemed to be invitation enough because Buddy lurched forward so quickly that Baby could barely blink before their lips were pressed together and moving. Buddy kissed him vigorously right off the bat as if he had been starved of him. He tasted like nicotine and black coffee, his stubble rubbing prickly against Baby’s soft face. He was everything Baby had dreamed he’d be when he was alone, whispering his name and pretending that he hated the way it sounded on his lips.

He pulled back, eyes bright and lips curving into a smile that almost seemed predatory. “Play us something sultry, huh, Baby?” Buddy said, and the hand curled around his iPod changed playlists without another thought. Marcy Playground’s ‘Sex and Candy’ started up in his ear, and he nodded.

Buddy gave him a look that seemed fond just before he moved in to kiss him again, reconnecting their lips as his hands came up to trail through Baby’s ruffled hair. His fingers felt so nice against his scalp, just barely scratching the roots with his fingernails and sending chills down Baby’s spine.

The song was dreamlike, and only increased the feeling of floating for him. Buddy’s hands met the nape of his neck on either side and ran down until they were brushing against the columns of his throat and roaming outwards. When his hands were planted firmly on his shoulders, thumbs grazing collarbones, he pulled away from the kiss to press his lips to Baby’s jaw, then to the underside of his chin, then to his jugular that seemed to jump underneath his touch. 

His skin was so soft, so clean, and Buddy yearned to bite into it, leaving small indentations of his teeth and careful bruises to show everyone who Baby really belonged to. 

And really, Baby was fine with belonging. Especially when Buddy touched him like that. 

When he ran out of throat to abuse, he slid his hands down Baby’s torso, feeling the slight curve of his waist and his hips beneath his palms. When he met the hem of his shirt, his hands crept underneath it and ran back up, feeling the hard muscle beneath his silky skin and the way his stomach leapt underneath his touch. Buddy wondered if he was ticklish, but decided against digging the tips of his fingers into his sides, worried that maybe it’d ruin the moment and the kid would snap out of it. 

He hooked his fingers at the bottom of the shirt and tugged it up, up, up, until it was bunched and resting at Baby’s underarms, exposing his lean stomach to the open air and more importantly, Buddy’s tongue. Baby tried not to whine when his mouth dragged, wet and warm, across his nipple. It was a strange sensation, one that had his fingers curling into fists as it laved over him. Baby couldn’t help but feel how hard he was in his jeans, practically throbbing every time the tongue slipped against him. “Buddy,” he sighed, impatient, and tried not to cringe at how loving his own voice sounded.

Before he could blink, he was being manhandled out of the chair, and Buddy quickly sat down in his place before yanking Baby down onto his lap backward. “I think Darlin’ was right,” Buddy mused, his hands running up and down Baby’s exposed abdomen again like he was mapping out every inch of it. Baby laid back against his chest, head on his shoulder as he looked up at the ceiling and breathed heavily. A large, solid hand reached down to palm at the crotch of his jeans, and Baby tried to keep himself from rutting against it, but he couldn’t. He felt so wound up that any friction at all was good enough for him, and that was saying a lot, considering it was the smallest amount of pressure. 

Buddy kissed his neck as he popped open the button of his jeans, slipping his calloused hand down inside. Baby whined brokenly when Buddy’s hand wrapped around him and squeezed. “I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” Buddy murmured, stroking so slowly and minutely that Baby was close to begging for it. “God, Darling talked about you during sex. Told me to pretend she was you. I have never come so fuckin’ fast before, did you know that, Baby? Did you know that I fucked her real nice and hard thinkin’ about fucking you? Hah, she loved it, god. She said I should go for you.”

It must’ve been a sight, Baby thought, them sitting in a rolling chair together as Buddy said filthy words and jerked him off. He was suddenly glad nobody was there. Just them. Just them and the way Baby’s eyes watered at the feeling of Buddy stroking him a little bit faster, laughing handsomely in his ear at the story. He could feel him hard underneath his weight, and that information was thrilling, if not a little dulled by all the other sensations he felt in that moment. “I didn’t know if you wanted me back, though. I was real fuckin’ frustrated for a while. Just watched you when I really wanted to fuck you against the table while everyone watched.” 

Baby crooned, and Buddy must’ve liked that because he was suddenly moving so much faster. The way Baby would get off at home, quick, searching for relief. It was so different from his own hand, though. Nothing he had ever felt could compare to Buddy’s big, calloused hand around him, running up and down the shaft with careful precision. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Baby? I bet you would. Bet you’d look so pretty on your back. Bet I could make you feel just like you do when you’re driving. You know what I’ll do? I’ll press you into my mattress and pull so much noise outta you that you won’t even need those headphones.”

Baby’s back arched off of Buddy’s chest, his whole body shuddering as he came. His moan echoed off the walls as it swallowed him whole, curling so sweetly in his gut and bursting like fireworks behind his eyelids. Buddy stroked him through it, kissing his neck and humming lowly as if to acknowledge him and remind him that he was the one giving this pleasure to him. When Baby came down, he relaxed against Buddy and just breathed, his ears ringing, his heart pounding hard against his ribcage. Buddy’s hand let go of him, sticky, but he didn’t move it. Just rested it against his thigh.

“Wanna come home with me since you’re not doing anything?” Buddy asked, nowhere near done with him. 

Baby nodded, eyes closed, not forgetting the bulge underneath his thighs or the way Buddy’s own heart thudded against his left shoulder blade. Maybe he did have a crush on Buddy at twenty-two. But could you blame him?


End file.
